Disclaimer: Eric Kripke is the metaphorical father of Supernatural. Not I.

Warning 1: Thou shall not steal. Plagiarism is a dastardly deed. Thank you.

Warning 2: No beta reader. Apologies for everything wrong, including any uncharacteristic behavior of the Winchester brothers.

Timeline: This is probably AU, but it is undoubtedly a "pre-series" piece.

Sections in italics are flashbacks while breaks/lines signal a time change.

Wings On Paper

By Jan J. (P.J.P.), Little Sister's Keepress

Ten-year-old Dean Winchester had just thwacked a boiled egg against the side of the kitchen sink when he froze.

Crumpled in the nearby trash can was a nightmare. Sam's picture—"This is for you, Dean"—lay torn in two pieces.

"Dad," Dean called out with restrained anger. Looking up from the dismal sight in the bin, Dean spotted the eldest Winchester through the closed window. The brunet sighed.

Abandoning the cracked egg on the countertop while simultaneously glancing at the slumbering Sam, Dean salvaged the bits of paper. Green eyes took in the creases and slightly smudged marker lines as he sacredly smoothed out the halves.

"This is going to need tape," he murmured. It was only just yesterday when the picture was whole.

"So do you like it?" Brown eyes bore expectantly into his.

"Sure, Sammy," reassured Dean. "It's really colorful, and the wings are totally awesome!"

"Guess what's in the picture!" Sam excitedly pleaded as he tugged on his big brother's sleeve.

'Oh, no,' thought Dean. 'Please don't let it be a butterfly.' If the rendering turned out to be as girly as that, the older boy did not know how to react without inciting the younger to adopt a "sad Sammy" face.

"A bird?" Dean cautiously ventured.

"Dean!" Sam whined. His eyes were downcast.

"Okay." Dean gulped. "A butterfly?"

"No, if it were a butterfly, then I would have drawn flowers," replied the youngest Winchester.

Dean could not decide whether to feel relief or concern over this declaration.

"Well, Sam, your drawing's coolness has temporarily blinded me," Dean admitted. "What is it?"

"You!" Sam beamed.

"Me?" Dean asked in bewilderment.

"Yeah," confirmed Sam. "See. I drew you wearing a pair of wings so big to keep you safe. So you don't ever fall and get scared."

"Sammy, I don't scare easily." Dean crouched down to clasp his brother's arms. "Don't worry about me."

"Dean, it's just in case," Sam solemnly stated. "It's to protect you. I know you can do anything and that you're brave."

After performing surgery with the tape on the paper patient, Dean folded and stowed the picture in his duffel bag. He was not going to let Dad throw Sam's drawing away again by accident.

"Sam." Dean shook the lump of covers on the bed.

"Mmmm."

"It's time to get up, little brother. We have boiled eggs and toast with peanut butter for breakfast."

"Coming, Dean."

Sam had left.

Dean rubbed his eyes. They felt like they were bleeding.

Stiffly, he walked over to his duffel bag and unfolded the picture that he had kept after all these years. He was such a sentimental idiot.

Dean glared at the colors. Six-year-old Sam's words reverberated in his head.

"So you don't ever fall and get scared."

The twenty-two-year-old hunter ripped the drawing. Bright shreds stained his hands.

What good was a piece of paper?

His wings had left.

FIN

Dedication: To a very special little girl whose hugs are as great as her art